The Three Oldest Echoes
by mcrocksxoxo
Summary: Years after the end of the rebellion Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch must face the three oldest echoes of The Hunger Games; the memories, the lost, and the pain that comes with moving forward. Second Chapter Coming Soon!
1. Alive

There were many mornings that I woke up dizzy from the images that spun around my dreams. They twirled and bounced off one another into different spaces of my mind where they could exist separately and haunt me independently with their own devices. Some used screams and colors while others silence and bleak surroundings. A few were fantasies but the worst were memories that shook my waking moments as much as they did my sleeping ones. My source of comfort tossed next to me in bed and even in that dreamy state I was sure we were both in too poor of condition to speak to one another. Tears ran down my cheeks and I screamed myself awake into the flesh of my knees. Shaking and sputtering I grabbed Peeta's hand and held it to my core to keep what was left of me together and to quiet his roughly sailing dreams. There was something about moments like that one, moments of comfort that I didn't seem to deserve, that pushed me out of our bed, into my undergarments, pants, shirt and hunting clothes, and out into the woods.

Cool air attacked my middle where his hand had set just a moment before. I zipped my jacket and greeted my fellow mockingjays as they sung their morning hymns. A small bird, much younger than the rest, flew low over my head and swooped around many tree branches and trunks before it returned to me. An invitation. It moved towards the lake and without much thought or any hesitation I proceeded to follow the young bird. The further away from the elder birds we went the more the young bird's song changed into Rue's melody. It was as if, on that early summer morning, that newly flighted bird had been with Rue and I in the games or had perched next to Rue in the orchards before the days of the Reaping.

I hiked with the young bird and couldn't bring myself to regret the time and the energy I spent following her aimlessly. When together we had gone over streams, discovered secret meadows and drifted up tall trees we found ourselves perched on the same branch and sang to one another. From those branches we could both take in the sorrowful yet beautiful rubble of District 12. The sunrise songs turned into the eerily beautiful afternoon silence of the woods. If the young mockingjay and I could have stayed still and quiet for long enough we would have heard the calls of the construction workers from where the merchant's homes and shops once stood.

Rebuilding was funny thing. No matter what the capital spent on the rebirth of the districts they never seemed to revitalize. The efforts of the men we could have listened to would not end up much differently. By the end a few more drab, uninhabited and chilled buildings with large empty storefront windows would stand without anyone energized enough to run them. Everyone had lost so much, everyone except the small mockingjay next to me.

That was it was my young friend knew the song perfectly over half a decade after Rue's death. I wanted to believe that Rue had called the tune to my new friend but I knew that wasn't the case. Their lives hadn't even crossed for any amount of time. Rue had died probably before this bird's mother and father had been hatched. Yet, even in a world with life cycles so out of sync, they could both sing Rue's song as it had come from her lips.

The late afternoon sun smirked and directed all the heat it could towards my brow. My friend flew away and I was unsure how exactly I would ever let another living thing go without it killing me. I wondered this every single time I said goodbye. Clumsily, I stumbled down the tree trunk with tears blocking my vision and heat stealing my sanity. It wasn't until I hit the bottom that the time began to really catch up with me. I hadn't eaten since the night before, nearly twenty hours ago, and it showed in my unsure steps. I remembered the direction of home but little of the path I'd taken. In this foggy state the creeks seemed deeper, the meadows seemed damper and the soaring trees held more predators than prey. My hike turned into a sprint and my steps became less sure as I trekked forward, back and to either side with my imagined sense of where home must be. Then there was only pain.

I didn't remember falling until I heard my name being called through the now dark and disheveled forest.

"Katniss… KATNISS!" An enraged and fearful voice slurred.

The next thing I was aware of was the pain. My ankle was twisted and swollen under a tree root that almost seemed too perfectly grown for trapping to be real. Thorns were stuck in various places all over my limbs and I wondered at which point in my exhausted excursion my clothes had ripped beyond use for their intended purpose. My jacket remained tied around my waist where it had been put for suffocating me in the afternoon heat.

Drunken footsteps clunked a few hundred yards down the path I'd been running along. "Sweetheart… Come out where…" Haymitch belched "wherever you are." I moaned into my arm and his searching calls turned into those of recognition. "Katniss!" He ran to me and took a moment to kick free my ankle from the crooked rooted tree. I winced with every one of his drunken blows that missed the root and hit my boot. Freed, I steadied myself on my better leg and took a moment to find my place in the upright world.

I brushed the earth away from my limbs and pulled at my hair in a pointless attempt to make myself look presentable in the honest unforgiving moonlight.

"I'm glad I found you, Sweetheart. You look absolutely stunning tonight." Haymitch calumniated with a roll of his eyes and a drip of drool down his chin. A glimmer in his gaze that I'd never seen before reflected in the night and back up into the stars. Laughing at his own joke he placed his arm around my shoulder and breathed a few anxiously joyful words into my ear. "Sweetheart, we have to run."

Wordlessly we supported each others limping back to what remained of the fence. Our moon crept up to it's peak in the sky to illuminate all its greenery and cast shadows on the areas beneath rustling branches. The area of the fence that we found was not wide enough along the bottom for climbing under and I trusted my damaged ankle more than Haymitch's drunken boost. I heaved myself 4 feet off the ground before I could register the pain in my ankle. Ten feet off the ground I turned around and held my hand out for Haymitch who didn't understand my sense of urgency. This was instinct and, after all I had been through, run meant RUN.

He finally accepted my hand and we made our way back to Victors' Village. Peeta and my home glowed with color lights that managed to also light up the streets through open summer windows. From the porch Haymitch and I could almost taste the warm bread and vegetable soup that occupied our kitchen. Haymitch's hand hit the doorknob before mine and instead of turning it he stepped in front of me and whispered harshly into my eyes. "Do not be surprised by anything you see or hear in there. Don't allow yourself to get excited or remember. Whatever happens you have to accept what is. Promise me?"

I reached past him with an urgency and he grabbed me by my knotted hair. "PROMISE ME!" I kicked at him and knew this was extremely out of character for my mentor. His promise to watch after Peeta and I had never gone past warnings into aggression. "Katniss… whatever you hear, whatever the three of us hear when we walk into that room, will mean the world to someone out there. Remember that."

My home floated behind Haymitch's back and I yearned to be held by the sweet boy that waited for me with either wonderful or horrifying news. Haymitch's rapid mood swings and mixed signals left me with nothing but fear and confusion. I nodded in response to his condition and pushed past him to get into the door. Behind me Haymitch drunkenly fell into the cast iron railings, moaned, picked himself up and trudged after me. I pushed my way through the storm that doubt and anxiety placed in front of me into our cozy kitchen and into the arms of the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on. Peeta stood just a few inches above me and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. He was warm and smelled like the flour from the fresh rolls sitting next to him. His lips found mine and I melted into him in a way that always made me feel like every kiss was the first kiss of forever. His arms found the crease between the back of my thighs and he lifted me into the air to wrap myself around him.

All the sounds of our world disappeared to us both. I felt the chill radiating off our cave walls and it was just me with Peeta in an arena again. My heartbeat quickened with the feelings of danger and desperation but my yearning for him did not decrease when I pulled him close into every crevice of of my trim figure. Peeta reached around my waist and seemed to forget about our evening meal getting cold. My stomach grumbled as it always had before the games but Peeta's lips tasted like all the candies of the world and served as a worthy distraction. Our silent interaction was enough to mesmerize me past noticing Haymitch's annoyance and the buzzing of the evening news.

Peeta leaned to whisper in my ear and I could feel his cheek touching mine as it pulled with its partner into a hopeful grin. "Katniss" His breath caressed my neck "We really should get you laying down." He pulled away and nodded towards my twisted ankle.

Haymitch and Peeta helped me to the couch in front of our television with a current of excitement and joy running between them that I could not conduct. Peeta settled in behind me and removed his prosthetic for comfort. We wrapped a knitted blanket my mother had sent around ourselves and I inhaled the smell of my baker once more. Our television flashed back to the news after a commercial break and the frenzy of color made me squint my eyes.

A tall blond woman stood outside of a large pink home in a blue fitted suit with an umbrella. She wore the same wide smile that Peeta and Haymitch wore and I felt a burn of jealousy over them knowing something that I did not. The woman spoke clearly and quickly as she dodged raindrops and repeatedly instructed her cameraman to wipe the lense clean. "I am standing here outside the former home of several of Ex. President Snow's Capital sympathisers where a fascinating discovery was made only five short hours ago. Twenty-four fully healed and expertly frozen bodies of fallen tributes have been found in the basement of this home only hours before it's scheduled demolition. These bodies are believed to have been part of a private collection of Hunger Games memorabilia and were taken to a local hospital for thawing and funeral preparations when the first showed potential needed to sustain life and was revived. Since then all twenty-four bodies have been reanimated with all but seven of them in critical condition. The identities of these tributes are being withheld at this time. We will report all information as it becomes available."

Haymitch switched off the television and Peeta pulled me as close to his body as physically possible. My lungs began to burn and I held onto Peeta's arms for dear life. My heartbeat quickened and managed to hold its strength and pace until I could feel it pulsing in my toes. A shift began inside of me and I began to sob once more. Haymitch stumbled over to me and placed his cheek on my forehead then kissed it softly. "Sweetheart, you are running a fever." He nodded to Peeta and I felt my baker's comforting arms retracting back to his sides.

I slid into Haymitch's open embrace and allowed myself to fall apart. I slid my face into the cleanest part of Haymitch's soiled shirt and brought my hands to my face to block Peeta's view of my melt down. My beautiful moment with Peeta had been shattered leaving me shivering and alone even in the arms of my mentor. A cool, soft hand reached through a tear in my shirt and rubbed my back while two aged and callused hands pulled my hair from my face. "Sweetheart?"

I couldn't speak.

"Katniss?" The vibrations came through the soft hand and I enjoyed the child like twinkle in Peeta's manly voice.

I looked up but avoided Peeta with my red puffy eyes.

"It's time for bed, Sweetheart. You're sick and need your rest."

Peeta carried me to bed and took off my boots to address my sprained ankle. Pain and questions filled my head and my stomach protested its emptiness. Peeta straightened out my lower leg until it was fit to be bandaged and then he left to bring me dinner. The loneliness he left me with allowed me to think about the small bird's song and brought me to question whether it was Rue's song at all or if it was just what I wanted to hear when I left home that morning. Peeta returned and fed me warm soup and bread until I couldn't hold any more. I undressed as much as I could without moving my injured limb and snuggled my back into Peeta's chest. His arms wrapped around me in reassurance, "Please, tell me what you are thinking."

I sighed and ran my hands along his arms. "Rue."

"I figured that much out myself. Do you think it's her?"

I shrugged and held his hand to my stomach as I had that morning. If it was truly Rue then I knew it was going to be alright. I knew I would be able to reach closure and all of my lost pieces, not just my heart, would work again. My scars would not seem so hideous and the dreams would be a reminder of what I had overcame instead of what I have lost. It was with that thought and the smell of my lovely baker wrapped around me that I drifted off to sleep.

The forest was light and airy with birds and small animals running freely. The air smelled like a picnic and each tiny touch of life that scampered, flew or swam in the woods felt more precious on that perfect day that it ever had before. Next to me, chocolate eyed and glowing, was the most lively and precious bit of life in the forest. The fruit she picked above us was plump and ripe with colors that only came from the constant nurturing of water that trickled down a nearby stream and the sun that warmed and wove our day into one of bliss.

Rue called to every mockingjay in the forest and cooed at a freshly hatched bird that seemed to know me as both a dear friend and an abandoned comrade. Having had allies and lost nearly as many I nodded to the bird in forgiveness and he settled back into the warmth of his mother's nest.

"Katniss, I've never seen fruit like this before." Rue mused. "Is it all ours?"

I patted her dark soft ringlets reassuringly and we sat at the base of what I soon recognized as my crooked rooted captor tree from a night that felt both recent and and impossibly far away. The crisp woods became muddled with fog and I could not see further than myself and the girl I'd missed for far too long. "Rue, what is your life like?"

Her dark cheeks turned pink as she wove a story of love, work and dreams for something better. "My mother loved me. I laughed and climbed trees and played with my siblings. We were all going to have something better at the end of the summer. In our own garden we grew potatoes and carrots that would have tasted delicious. When I was chosen for the games I knew it was over" She swallowed back her sobs and let few tears fall "...and I died more loved than you'll ever know. I died in my sister's arms." Her hand held mine and droplets trickled down my cheeks into a lap that I could no longer see. Rue's curls began to disappear around her face and I did my best to hold onto the image of her as she was in front of me. My eyes held hers even as my hand began to numb and feel coldly empty. I did not grip at the air and try to hold her as I wished to. That night, in that dream, I accepted what was true. I was that way because that was what Rue would have wanted and seeing her that final time was more of a gift than I'd ever dreamed of receiving.

In the darkness I felt water rising around me and currents pushing me side to side. As my mouth and nose became submerged I felt no fear. Rue was above me, above the trees around me, where the water would never reach her. She was safe. She was more loved than I'd ever know.

I awoke to screams. Haymitch danced around our bedroom, staring himself down in the mirror with the same glittery expression he had worn rescuing me from the forest. Peeta quickly covered our undressed bodies over with blankets and grasped the area around his side of the bed for his prosthetic. "Haymitch! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Haymitch ran into our bathroom and returned with his greasy hair dampened and lathered with hand soap. "Silver Lockhearst."

"Who?" I groaned with lack of understanding and annoyance. "What does she have to do with your barging into our bedroom?"

A cluckle erupted from Haymitch's crazed face. "My water isn't running."

"Alright so what does this have to do with a girl?" Peeta demanded and pushed himself slightly in front of me in anticipation of danger from Haymitch's erratic behavior. "Who are you talking about?"

"Well sweetheart," He addressed me "You weren't the only one. There were two before you I have tried to help. Silver Lockhearst was my first."

"Your first what?!" Peeta inquired with speculation on the meaning behind Haymitch's words.

"Tribute I mentored." He rinsed his hair in our sink and began to brush his yellowed teeth with Peeta's toothbrush. Brown foam tripped down his chin and sputtered it's way onto the bathroom mirror and into the air as he spoke. "Tribute I watched fight."

Peeta stood back in defeat and held a towel in front of his face to deflect the dirty minty spit that was now on almost every surface of our bathroom.

"And she is alive."


	2. My Gray World

Seven nights I waited through agony remembering the smooth face of a blond boy. Under me was a pinkish puddle of rain, my tears and the blood of my fellow tributes; Above me a weeping willow that held unnatural, poisonous, purple blossoms that tempted each tribute almost saying "Just one touch". When my memories began to fade I wept and watched the sunset on the brutal Wonderland's horizon. My eyelids grew heavy and I felt myself slipping into darkness. Hour by hour I watched myself fade in the puddle surrounding me. My shimmering eyes turned dull as mercy claimed me. I died alone with his smiling face a thousand miles away and confidence that his lips had discovered someone new to touch.

Light.

Color.

Life.

A clear empty roar of my stomach erupted in the dry white room and sharp pinch near my wrist sent me back toward the darkness into a powerless world that could only be characterized by an irregular beep and a gray hue. In the land between the darkness and the light, my gray world, all thoughts and eventually my fixation returned to my wonderful Haymitch. His eyes had already been corrupted by loss and loneliness the first time he held me on the train. My innocence had not recognized the true depth of that pain but I finally understood what trick the arena played on each tribute's soul and the price that I had paid for survival.

In my gray world I could almost feel Haymitch wrapped around me. I remembered all his promises of marriage and children with fondness. The first awareness I had of my body while in the gray world was a smile. Following it I pulled my hands to my body with a surge of happiness for my impending return to my love and for all I was bringing back to him. Buzzing voices around me gossiped of a harsh and damaged mentor but only once had I received his critical gaze, at The Reaping, and even then I'd watched it soften into one of understanding.

My world lightened and an old woman, whom I recognized but could not place, fed me a bowl of hot soup and helped me into a shower. The first shock came while undressing. A skeletal woman's face atop a narrow sheet of skin starred in the mirror back at me. A dozen deep gashes and a few more minor rippled marks lay across my boney figure and I suddenly felt the weight of what The Games had really taken from me. While the elderly woman, Missoura, washed out my matted hair my mind swam through thoughts of despair regarding the horrid condition of my once clear and fit figure. Questions of what I could really give my darling Haymitch now swam through my mind while Missoura instructed me on how I should apply a medicated cream to my wounds. I phased in and out of the conversation and her withered hands found their way into the air as she cradled my face and kissed my forehead.

"Oh Silver, I spent so long thinking that I could have done something to spare you all of this loss." Her green eyes welled up with tears of relief. "But you're here now and you'll always be my most beautiful canvas." Missoura croaked from what smelled like years of tobacco smoking and sounded like a lifetime of joyous cooing.

I hugged the gentle woman and felt the second bit of shock in the form of guilt and fear for what and who I could not remember. Somewhere in my heart I knew that this woman held a significant place but the only elderly relative I could recall having left was my grandfather.

Missoura decided to apply the cream herself and I had too little strength to protest. She dressed me in my familiar Reaping dress and began to cry again as we said our goodbyes while walking down a long white hallway toward the train station. Her crooked fingers held out a little satchel for me containing sweets for my train ride home and her old eyes found the sky. In this movement it was like the old womans was surrendering her soul to me as some sort of payment for a sin she had not committed. In that moment I decided that, however I turned out remembering this woman, I would set her tender heart free to be her's again no matter how much time it had spent aching under her brittle ribs.

My hand wrapped its way around her's and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I forgive you." I whispered.

Missoura's pale lips turned into a sweet smile and she mouthed "Thank you." before she gestured for me to board my train.

Without another thought I wandered onto the train and found myself a seat near the window. It was time to go home.


End file.
